


Close Enough

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2019 [1]
Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 21:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17630297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: Amber and Skipper accept a challenge and prove the strength of their bond.Prompt: telepathyPairing: Lady Amber/Skipper of OttersBeta by imaginary_golux





	Close Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-Mossflower.

For all that it was a rare calm and sunny day, early in the Autumn of the Great Winds, two creatures had their snouts pointed firmly at the ground. 

“Lot of tracks,” Skipper noted. “From _big_ paws.”

“All the more reason we should find out what it is,” Lady Amber scoffed from the branch above him.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Skipper replied, checking the point of his javelin on his pawpad. “I’ll stick to the brush--”

“--and I’ll stick to the trees. Call like a whippoorwill if you see anything strange.”

“Will do,” he promised, setting off along the edge of the path. He kept an eye on the tracks as he moved. Spirits, but they were massive. Only beast he’d seen with paws close to that size was Bella, and everyone knew you didn’t get more than a couple badgers under one roof...

...well, maybe everyone was wrong, Skip amended as half-a-dozen badgers came marching down the lane, smiling like they were out for a pleasant walk. Not talking, but Skipper didn’t mind quiet folk. Not armed, either, but seeing as the smallest of them was big enough to tear Skipper’s arm off without much strain, he took a cautious step back.

_Crack!_

Skipper gulped as a dry twig gave away his position. Eerily, the six badgers turned as one to face him. “We know you are there,” one of them said, deep enough to reach into Skip’s bones and remove all doubt that it might be a bluff. “We mean you no harm,” another continued, picking up right where the first had led off. 

Hellgates, might as well take them at their word, he decided, and stuck his javelin back in his pack. “Whip-poor-will,” he muttered dejectedly. Amber jumped down out of the trees beside him, and that made him feel a little better. And hey, they weren’t dead yet. 

***

As it happened, Amber discovered, the badgers were entirely harmless. They lived in a small settlement (as small as anything badger-sized could be) and mostly lived and let live. “If you don’t mind, how do you get along so well?” Amber asked one of them, a tall female named Hava. 

“Badgers have always had strange ways,” Hava replied. “Scrying, communing with our ancestors, crafting strange weapons, and many other arts besides. Our gift is to share thoughts with our kith and kin. I know not whether it is from our blood or from close living, but we strengthen our gift through the Trials.”

“Trials?” Amber’s ear pricked up at this. 

“Tests of skill, strength, stamina--and above all else, coordination,” Hava explained. Amber looked over at Skipper and grinned. She knew she and Skip would _have_ to give it a try before they left the badgers’ hospitality. Hava smiled warmly. “I agree that you and your companion would benefit from an attempt at the Trials. Come, I will arrange it with our tribe. There will be many who will want to watch an outsider compete.”

Compete and win, Amber thought to herself, determined more than ever to succeed. 

***

An hour later, Amber collapsed in the mud; the finish line tangling around her as she fell. Beside her, Skipper dragged himself to a resting position, his paw linked with hers. “I’ve never been this sore. Ever,” she moaned. “Or had this much muck in my tail.” She hated the feeling of a mucky tail, even to the point of insisting on Skipper teaching her to swim only in the deeper, clearer water at the center of the river. 

“I’m not sure whether I’ve got more splinters in my forepaws from climbing that tree while lashed together, or in my footpaws from trying to balance on that rolling log bridge!” Skipper heaved a groan. 

“Don’t even say the word forepaw around me,” Amber added. “If I fired my bow any faster the string would have caught flame. _You_ just had to carry me.”

“And don’t my shoulders know it,” Skipper groused. 

“Showed those badgers, though.” Amber paused. "Didn't Martin train with a badger?"

“Aye, that he did. Explains a lot, come to think.” They lay for a moment, silent but for heavy, ragged breaths. “Would you want to--”

“--be able to share thoughts like that?” Amber finished his sentence. “Dark Forest, no.” She squeezed his paw. “I think we’re close enough already.”


End file.
